I have two sons, both of whom are Kapur, with big houses and luxury cars, living in Ahmedabad and Mumbai. However, by the time I was over 60, my hair had turned grey and my bones would hurt every time the weather changed, I had to live alone in a dilapidated house on the outskirts of Vadodara, eating vegetables and rotis every day.

It’s not that I don’t need my kids, just… They never come home. Whenever I was sick, I would call the eldest son, Rakesh, and on the other side would be his wife, Neha, who would pick up the phone rudely:

“He’s in a meeting, Mom, call tomorrow.” ”

As for the youngest son, Amit, his wife Priya wouldn’t let me video call him because “it would disturb the little girl who was studying”, and he wouldn’t even bother to reply to my messages. Both were more afraid of their wives than of the sky.

His father died when he was young, and I was the one who raised him alone. But now…

Once, I had a fever for several days, I was very thin, no matter how many times I called, none of them came back. At that time, I understood… I no longer have a place in my children’s hearts. And I made a plan.

The next day, I called Rakesh, pretending to be weak:

Mom is very happy, son. Mom has just won the special lottery, Rs 1 crore!

He was silent for a few seconds and then quickly asked:

– Are you sure? Where are the tickets? I’ll be right away!

Less than two hours later, he and his wife were both there, smiling happily. The next day, Amit also hurriedly called his wife and children back, saying that he wanted to “stay with the mother so that she can enjoy her old age”.

My house was quiet, but suddenly there was a noise like Diwali. They brought me food, changed sheets, mopped the floor, and even bought ginseng and a bird’s nest to nourish me. I pretended to be indifferent, but deep inside I was laughing.

One night, I overheard Neha and Priya talking in the kitchen:

“You have a million and it’s useless to be alone, tomorrow we’ll ask him cleverly…

Yes, let’s see which way he is headed and then we will decide.

I pretended to be unheard. A few days later, I quietly placed a fake testament on the altar, which read: “One million will be divided equally between the two sons, and the one who has the highest son will receive an additional surprise reward.” ”

Just as I had imagined, a few days later, we both began to “compete” with son-in-law devotion: Rakesh bought a full-body massage, Amit called a doctor to get my general check-up; While Rakesh was pleading with his mother to stay in a luxurious apartment in Mumbai, Amit was pleading with his mother to go back to Goa to live a peaceful life.

Then one day, I gathered the whole family, leaned on a stick and stood in the middle of the courtyard, my voice as light as the wind:

– Sorry kids… My lottery winning story was simply fabricated. Mother just wants to know, if there is no money, will it have a place in your hearts?

Both the children and the two daughters-in-law were speechless. No one could utter a word. The atmosphere was as heavy as the sky before the rainstorm.

I turned and slowly walked back to my room. I had tears in my eyes, but I held them back. I don’t need money to live, I just need a little love.

The next day, the two families packed up their belongings and left, no one said a word.

A few months later, I packed up all my belongings, sold my old house, quietly bought a small piece of land in the suburbs of Udaipur with my savings, built a small garden, lived with a few dogs and cats, grew clean vegetables, and made masala chai every morning.

Not a single penny was left for my children.

I left a will:

In my will I wrote:

“Dear Rakesh and Amit,

If you are reading this, it means that I have gone too far or gone away from your life in some other way.

I didn’t leave money, house, or land for you. What I’ve left behind is true: the one crore rupees I won in the lottery – never existed.

I have spent my whole life raising you both, so that you can have all that you have today. But when I became weak, I received no care, but silence and indifference in return.

When I pretended to have money, you came. When I really needed you, you left.

The money you expected to get here… He bought me a new life – a small house in Udaipur, a few dogs and cats as friends, a lush green garden. There, I didn’t have to wait for anyone to come back.

All the memories, the pictures, the papers related to you – I put them in a wooden box under the altar. You can take him. That’s all that’s left of us in between.

I don’t blame you, I just hope that you don’t treat anyone else in your life the way you have treated me. Because one day you’ll be old, too. And the feeling of being abandoned hurts more than any poverty. ”

Signed,
Meera Devi – mother of children.

A few months later, as I had anticipated, Rakesh and Amit returned to the old house with their two wives – but it was an empty house, the door locked and there was silence. Neighbors said:

“The old woman sold the house a long time ago, no one knows where she moved. I heard that she lived happily, smiling every day. ”

He received a red envelope and read every word. No one said anything, but Rakesh’s hands were shaking, and Amit’s head was bowed.

For the first time in years, they both cried. But it was too late.

A year after reading the will, Rakesh and Amit went on a business trip to Udaipur. Incidentally, they had gone on the same night train.

In the morning, on the road leading to Lake Pichola, amidst rows of red bougainvillea, he suddenly heard a shrill laugh from a small roadside tea stall.

They turned around — and froze.

Mrs. Meera Devi was sitting on the steps of the shop, dressed in a simple saffron cotton sari, with her hair neatly tied, her eyes shining like those of fifty years. Two puppies were sleeping on the table, a black cat obediently lurking in their lap. Around him, a few neighbouring women were chatting excitedly, and he would occasionally pour more masala chai for them.

Rakesh opened his mouth and called out softly:

–Mother…

He looked up, his eyes paused for a few seconds. There were no anger, no tears — just a small, polite smile, as if she were talking to a stranger.

Excuse me, would you like some tea? She asked warmly, but he didn’t call them babies.

Amit took a step forward, but stopped abruptly when he saw a girl of about seven years running out clinging to his leg:

– Granny, I want some milk in the tea!

Mrs. Mira bent down, patted the child’s head and said lovingly:

– Okay, go inside and wait, Granny will make it later.

The picture pierced the hearts of the two boys like a knife. They understood – someone had called her a nanny, had given her the warmth and love they had forgotten.

She turned to a neighbor, continuing the unfinished story, mistaking their arrival as a passing wind.

Rakesh and Amit turned silently, their steps heavy. He no longer had a place in his mother’s life.

And in the sound of temple bells in the distance, he realized – there are some doors that once closed… They will never open again.